


Aftermath

by Kedreeva



Series: 3am Questions [1]
Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Multi, Nightblogging, Threegulls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Duke asks silly questions about aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

            “Why do we call it  _aftermath_?” Duke asks one night from where he is laying sprawled across her bed.

            Audrey looks up from her phone, glances quickly to the pot on the stove, and then looks back to Duke. Nathan’s looked up from his book and is just staring at him with furrowed brows. It’s been a long day, the kind of day where adrenaline still tingles in their blood and their bellies are only just starting to uncurl from knots of worry, waking at the scent of browning meat and red sauce and chopped garlic. She knows  _where_ the question came from, just not how to answer it.

            “I mean, it’s not like we did any  _math_ ,” Duke continues. Audrey’s eyes track the slow motion of his hand as he strokes fingertips over the top of her comforter.

            Nathan looks over in time to meet Audrey’s eyes. He gives a little shrug; he must not have any idea, either. “It’s just one of those things,” Nathan rumbles, and then leans back in the chair.

            “Was there some point in time where someone did  _so much math_  that the period of time that followed could only be called after math?” Duke asks, as if he’d never heard Nathan. “Did someone do so much math that a _recovery period_  was necessary?”

            Audrey smiles and tucks her phone into her pocket. The sauce is still simmering and the water’s just starting to boil, so she dumps the pasta in and gives it a soft swirl with a spoon to keep it from clumping. Then she sets it all aside and crosses the room to Duke. He looks over when she kneels on the edge of the bed, pulls his arm out of her way as she curls up perpendicular to him.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks. She can feel Nathan’s eyes on her as she nudges Duke’s fingers with her own. He winds them together and looks up at the ceiling.

            “I don’t like even  _like_ math,” he says quietly. “But I’d have to do a hell of a lot of it to compare.”

            She doesn’t bother asking him  _compare to what_  because she’d been there. She’d felt the swoop of fear in her belly knowing that their lives were in danger. Even though it had ended well, her hands had still been shaking only an hour ago. They’d only stopped when she’d had both of her boys safely back here, sharing heartbeats under her hands until she was sure they were not going anywhere she couldn’t follow.

            She doesn’t tell him it’s okay, or even that it’s going to be okay. She doesn’t tell him she’s fine, or that Nathan’s right there, whole and well. In fact, she doesn’t say anything at all, just squeezes his fingers between hers and tugs his hand over her breastbone. As soon as his knuckles touch skin she releases him and his response is automatic, hand splaying over her heart, fingers fitting in the dips between her ribs.

            The bed behind Audrey dips as Nathan joins them, book discarded carefully on his vacated chair. He folds himself into the space between Duke and the edge of the bed, disturbing them just enough to get his arm tucked under Duke’s neck. Audrey glances up just in time to see Nathan kiss the edge of Duke’s closed eye, press his nose gently to Duke’s temple.

            “You hate math, right?” Nathan asks, voice like rough gravel.

            “Yeah,” Duke agrees. The word sounds tight but she can hear the gratitude and amusement running like a current under the surface of it.

            Nathan kisses him again. “Then maybe they call it  _aftermath_ because the bad part’s over.”

            Duke huffs a laugh and Audrey smiles over him at Nathan. This right here is how they survive the day-to-day trauma that is their lives. Sharing the stress, the worry, the fear, splitting it all between the three until the weight is small enough to carry. Winding down at the end of the day with sprawling stillness, reading a good book, and cooking a delicious-

            Audrey bolts upright at the reminder just as the pasta pot begins to boil over, and the laughter of both boys chases her into the kitchen. But even this, she thinks as she turns down the flame and stirs the pot, is how things should be. 


End file.
